


Perks

by chase_acow



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-18
Updated: 2006-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:46:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chase_acow/pseuds/chase_acow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cameron might be a little drunk, and Evan might be willing to take little advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perks

_**Fic: Perks Cameron/Lorne PG**_  
Title: Perks, For Lack of a Better Name  
Author: Renae  
Pairing: Lorne/Mitchell with other slight pairings  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: So not mine.  
Summary: Cameron might be a little drunk, and Evan might be willing to take little advantage.  
A/N: for [](http://kellifer-fic.livejournal.com/profile)[**kellifer_fic**](http://kellifer-fic.livejournal.com/)  
Ronon/Daniel - Protection, capture, cold.  
Cameron/Lorne - Drunkeness, a letter from home, a small moment between other characters of affection (any characters)

Cameron hated this galaxy. It was full of monsters, food that would kill you, and backwards people, the majority of which would have fit in comfortably with an Earthen fourth world country. He didn’t understand the politics, religions, or customs, and generally, he didn’t care. Most of all he hated not being able to go after his team when they were lost or hurt.

Watching from the gate room was the hardest thing he ever had to do. Pacing had done nothing but further aggravated him, but standing still was something he hadn’t been able to do since his parents let him quit his private Catholic school. Previous commands couldn’t have prepared him for event horizons, parasitic aliens, and watching people closer than family die.

Daniel had been missing for days, but managed to cheat death one more time. He was covered in snow and ice, carried by Ronon who promptly growled when anyone got close until Sheppard managed to calm him down. As soon as Daniel was out of the infirmary, Elizabeth threw a party.

Atlantis had few enough reasons to celebrate these days that any excuse would bloom up into a festival. The mess hall was redecorated, the tables shoved back to the walls and baskets and jars of food and drink lined the main bar. Everyone was given at least a half-day off, and drifted in and out of the mess.

Elizabeth called it a morale booster, Cameron thought it was a damn fine reason to keep the mainland producing space-beer. He raised his glass to his lips, welcoming the floating sensation of his well-nurtured buzz. It served the twin purposes of dulling the ache in his leg and letting him enjoy the dinner without remembering all the people who _should_ have been there but weren’t.

Really, it was just that he missed the SGC. Sure, Atlantis was more impressive with its skylights, piers and towers, but at least under Cheyenne Mountain he knew what to expect. He’d been able to _do_ something about it back then too, whether it was Goa’uld, Ori, or NID. Flying a desk had never been on his to-do list, honestly, he never thought he’d live that long.

Here they were, not quite whole or healthy, but muddling through. Vala’s laughter, as rare now as it was plentiful before, drifted over the soft music and pulled Cameron’s gaze toward her. Sitting between Sheppard and Ronon, she should have looked tiny, but Adria’s last gift shined through her skin even now, years later.

The Ori had been defeated, but at a price that none of them had really considered. The untouchable SG-1 had finally come to know personal loss. That any of them were alive to tell the story was due solely to Vala and her daughter. The knowledge of life, the universe and everything was a heavy weight to bear, but Vala got up every morning and reintroduced herself to them.

She never seemed to wonder why she always woke up next to Sheppard, though.

The setting sun cast rays of the darkest red through the windows. Cameron remembered the blood, would never forget the smell. Daniel didn’t speak much these days, a product of month’s long torture. Cameron remembered wishing he could get the other man to shut up, now when Daniel spoke, it was a gift.

It was just too bad they hadn’t managed to shut the Ori down before the Priors made it to Earth. A global administration now governed over the planet, one way to fight the Book of Origin. One of the concessions made was sending the surviving members of SG-1 as far away from the fanatics as possible - a one-way ticket to the Pegasus Galaxy.

Daniel leaned across Ronon, a casual touch taken for granted that meant so much more, to speak softly to Vala. He was lucky that there hadn’t been any permanent damage from the frostbite thanks to the Ancients and their machines. He’d only had to spend days in sickbay instead of weeks.

Taking another drink, Cameron sent up a silent ‘thank you’ to whichever deity it was that had kept Daniel safe this time. Three teams had gone out looking for Daniel and Ronon on the ice planet that would forever be known as ‘Hoth’. It took days, and it was a wonder that none of them had died from hypothermia.

Somehow, his team that was no longer his team, dug in and made Atlantis into a home for themselves, some easier than others. Sam had been the most affected by the move from the Milky Way. McKay spent weeks looking for a way to give her back the sparkle in her eyes, eventually finding a way to patch her into the visual network of Atlantis.

Now she could see far better than anyone else could, as long as she stayed in the city. The gene therapy had taken and the city sometimes showed her where it needed repairs before the diagnostics logged into the mainframe.

Sam was the one who had found the room they gathered in once a month to light candles for their dead. Cameron liked to think that Teal’c would like that, even if O’Neill would just snort and roll his eyes at their attempt at somberness. More often than not, Sam or Cameron would remember some story that would get a giggle out of Vala or an almost grin out of Daniel.

“Hey,” Elizabeth said, waving a hand in front of his face and breaking into his reverie. “What did I say about brooding tonight?”

Cameron blinked looking up at her, and then flashed his brightest grin, picking up his glass again, “Did you say you liked it?”

He teased her because he could. She never asked to have them dumped in her lap, but she’d bent over backwards trying to make sure they had a place here. It wasn’t her fault, that the only thing Cameron was good for these days was pushing paper.

“Hardly,” Elizabeth drawled, a habit she’d undoubtedly picked up from Sheppard. She turned her head, searching, until she found who she was looking for. “Lieutenant Colonel? Could you come here for a moment?”

Rolling his eyes, Cameron wondered how Elizabeth still managed to play mother hen for everyone under her command. It was a far cry from every other post he’d ever served on. It was probably just the moonshine talking, but he couldn’t decide which one he liked more.

“Yes, ma’am?”

Elizabeth put her hands on her hips, pretending a sternness that was as unsuited to the festivities as his melancholy, “I think Colonel Mitchell needs a little help cheering up. Think you’re the man for the job?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Elizabeth said with a smile, reaching out and squeezing Cameron’s shoulder before she left to join members of her original expedition.

Cameron sighed and refilled his glass from the jug he’d brought over to his table earlier. With his leg, the less walking he had to do, the better, doubly so if he was on his way to being drunker than a skunk. “That woman is about as unsubtle as a rhino in a bait shop,” he said, taking a drink, his throat numbed so that the liquid didn’t even burn on the way down.

“I think maybe you’ve had enough, sir,” Lorne said straddling the bench so that he could face Cameron. He had only just come off duty, and still had his sidearm and radio in place.

Snorting, Cameron tipped his glass back and drained it in two quick swallows, and reached to refill it again, “I don’t need a nursemaid, _Evan_.”

The warm hand circling his wrist didn’t surprise him near as much as it probably should. He looked up from the slightly blue liquid to Evan’s face. The other man was as serious as ever, but a small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.

“Maybe you just need a friend to lean on,” Evan said, rubbing his thumb across Cameron’s pulse point. Since Atlantis wasn’t formally attached to the United States anymore, the military had gone through several uniform reforms.

“Fine,” Cameron grumbled, gently pushing the full glass toward Evan. “A man doesn’t stand a chance between the two of you anyway,”

“By ‘the two of you’, did you mean me and Dr. Weir?” Evan’s eyes twinkled before he tipped his head back and slurped the alcohol noisily. Putting it back the table, he finally let loose a grin, “Or are you trying to tell me you’re seeing double?”

“Oh, ha,” Cameron said, rolling his eyes and turning his back to Evan so he could work his leg over the bench. It hurt less if he didn’t bend his knee, so sitting was always an adventure.

This time, two hands smoothed over his shoulders and rested over his ribs, pulling Cameron back just a bit, to sit between Evan’s legs. Obviously, Cameron had one too many because he isn’t pulling away, instead leaning back.

“I was on my way over,” Evan said softly, lowering his head to rest on Cameron’s shoulder. Their corner of the mess was the quieter end, with a scattering of people who were more interested in minding their own business. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it first.”

“S’okay,” Cameron mumbled before he pulled away and finished swinging his leg over the bench. He reached for his cane and stood, settling his weight on his good foot, “I was just on my way out.”

Lieutenant Colonel Evan Lorne was still very attractive, in that limited gene pool kinda way. Cameron’s lower belly tightened as he watched the other man duck his head, and hunch his shoulders, stretching his t-shirt across broad muscles.

“Oh,” Evan looked down, fiddling with Cameron’s now empty cup.

Rolling his eyes, Cameron wondered if he was that thick headed when he’d been younger, “By that, I meant that you were on your way out too. At the very least, I think Dr. Weir put you in charge of my well being?”

With a smile, Evan looked up and _bounced_ off the bench, “Yes sir!”

“Stop with the ‘sir’ stuff, I feel old enough already,” Cameron sighed, starting to limp along toward the door, knowing that Evan would match his pace. “I just got a letter in on the Daedalus; I’m going to be a grand-uncle.”

“Wow, Cam, and you don’t look a day over ‘Uncle’,” Evan snorted holding the mess doors open for him.

“Never mind, I obviously should have brought the jug, if I’m going to have to put up with your puns,” Cameron teased turning as if to go back after it.

“I _don’t_ think so,” Evan growled, pulling him out the door and into the relatively empty sanctuary of the hallway. “I have _plans_ for you, _Cameron_.”

“Oh yeah?” Cameron asked moving his cane out of the way so that when he stepped up next to Evan’s chest he wouldn’t lose any vital body parts. Without waiting for an answer, Cameron leaned into a kiss, warm and tasting like alien alcohol substitute.

He missed the SGC, but Atlantis definitely had its perks.


End file.
